


red

by prittyspeshul



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Abuse, Darkfic, Domestic Violence, Gen, M/M, Wordcount: 100-500, implied past ambrollins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 06:37:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6743317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prittyspeshul/pseuds/prittyspeshul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They got paid to hit people—in hindsight, he was surprised it had taken as long as it did for the blow to come."</p>
            </blockquote>





	red

They got paid to hit people—in hindsight, he was surprised it had taken as long as it did for the blow to come.

 

They were in the hotel room, arguing about something, something stupid, but it had gotten heated; they were nose-to-nose, yelling, and then—

\--he couldn’t see and his ears were ringing and blistering hot agony ripped through his cheek—

 

He woke up in the hospital, vision blurry and head aching. He groaned and Dean was there, right beside him, touching, stroking, holding, and without thinking he flinched back.

“Roman,” it was a plea, a desperate agonized whimper, and when callused hands cupped his jaw again he stayed still, despite the electric scream of danger that danced in his brain. He couldn’t help but listen to the apologies, the assurance over and over and over “it will never happen again (when I’m sober) it will never happen, I didn’t mean it (except when I did), I’m so sorry I’m so sorry I’m so sorry…”

He never said a word, just accepted the affection that stung like poison and the apologies that rang hollow. 

There was something broken in Dean that he couldn’t fix; he had accepted that years ago. It was something deep and dark and angry that lashed out when he had a drink (or seven), but never before tonight had it touched him.

“Roman?” The fingers around his face tightened, a warning (a threat) and he didn’t flinch, pressing a reflexive kiss to the palm against his cheek. 

He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t meet his eyes, either. 

 

When he showed up to Monday’s taping with a shiner and medical clearance, Seth opened his mouth and Roman shook his head (he saw the tape sloppily covering the bloody seam that traveled Dean’s knuckles, and Seth closed his mouth, instinctively massaging the jagged lump of scar behind his ear. He knew better).

**Author's Note:**

> ~hello darkness, my old friiiiiiend~
> 
> Just a little something-something that crawled out of my brain because Rihanna and Chevelle were on the radio.


End file.
